


Nothing For Free

by xtricks



Series: Nothing For Free [1]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-29
Updated: 2012-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-30 07:48:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xtricks/pseuds/xtricks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I decided to try my hand at a very old cliché in fandom: the hooker/hustler AU.  So, familiar faces in strange places.  <br/>Kinks: Dirty talk, prostitution, public sex, non fluffy prostitution (though a little fantasized)</p>
    </blockquote>





	Nothing For Free

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to try my hand at a very old cliché in fandom: the hooker/hustler AU. So, familiar faces in strange places.   
> Kinks: Dirty talk, prostitution, public sex, non fluffy prostitution (though a little fantasized)

Ianto flicked the butt of his smoke out past the overhang, where the rain immediately battered it to the tarmac and the glowing ember died without so much as a flicker. Hunching his shoulders, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and stared irritably out into the miserable weather. He'd give the night another hour then sod it all. 

He was lined up with a half dozen other blokes, watching the cars pass on by without pausing to take a look at the wares on order. It was cold and miserable and none of them, even Rupert, was willing to stand out by the bus stop and get rained on all night while the johns all drove home to fuck their wives and dream about cock. The growls of a big engine turning in made them all lift their heads hopefully. Ianto shifted his weight and propped a boot against the wall and imagined he looked like a very fuckable James Dean. 

The guy who got out of the car looked like a fucking superhero and a collective hiss went up from the line-up. Ianto clenched his fists and didn't trot out like everyone else. This was a job, not a fan club, and he wasn't going to fall into the trap of pretending he liked being a rent boy, or that it made a difference if the guy paying him was handsome or not.

He realized too late that if he'd stuck with the crowd, the john would never have noticed him but being the last man propping up the public loo wall meant the john walked right over.

"Taking your council enforced ten-minute break?" the man smiled as he spoke, with a flat American accent. Tourist. That piqued Ianto's interest because tourist meant money to throw around and no common sense to know the price of a fuck or a suck.

He gave the john a smile that was only a little forced and shrugged. "Funny. Nope. I just like to keep a little mystery going."

The man rocked on his heels, rain beading on his big coat, and gave Ianto a very shiny smile. "If I were looking for mystery I wouldn't be trolling the public loo in Bute park for a fuck, would I?"

Ianto just raised a brow. "Yet here you are, talking to me."

"Guess it worked after all," The john said with a laugh and Ianto revised his age up a few years at the appearance of lines at the corner of his eyes. "How much?"

"Fifty for a suck, Seventy-five for a fuck," Ianto shot back, more than doubling his usual price. Between the accent and the clothes, the guy could afford it and standing out here for hours was bloody cold.

"Should've worn my cheap pants."

Ianto shrugged, hiding his nerves because fifty or seventy-five quid for a single trick was fucking tempting, and jerked a chin at the rest of the crew watching enviously. "They're cheaper." Rupert gave Ianto the V from behind the john's back.

"I have expensive tastes," the john replied lightly and stepped up to Ianto, resting a hand on his hip and sweeping his gaze down Ianto's body before looking back to his face. They were the same height and this close, the john was just as handsome as he had been on first glance. His teeth were American perfect but there something hard and sad about the set of his mouth even when he smiled, which he did too much. Flecks of dried blood was caught in his fringe, like he'd been in a brawl, but his face was clean and unmarked. He brushed a thumb under Ianto's t-shirt, stroking the bare skin on his hip lightly, and Ianto shivered. He stiffened, glancing away from the man's eyes, not used to anything resembling pleasure in his work.

The john gestured with odd courtesy towards the lit doorway to the loo. "Shall we?"

"Yeah," Ianto said, turning away from him. "Let's get this on."

There were no doors in the stalls and spent needles and condoms littered the floor below the signs in Welsh and English about misusing public facilities. The air was heavy with rain and the smell of piss and sweat and sex. Ianto hardly noticed it, breathing it in most every night, as he walked to the last stall. "Suck or fuck?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Oh, a fuck," the john caught up to Ianto, hands already at his belt. "Your arse is far too gorgeous to pass up."

"Okay," Ianto muttered, ignoring a compliment he'd heard a hundred times as he unbuckled his belt and undid his flies. The john handed over the quid and Ianto exchanged it for a condom and a hard look. "No glove --"

"-- no love," the john sighed but plucked it from Ianto's fingers without any of the usual whining. White briefs peeked from the v of his trousers and old fashioned braces dangled from the man's hips; his coat was already hanging from the corner of the stall. As Ianto watched, the john tugged his cock free of his pants, stroking the half-hard shaft in one hand. "Give me a hand?"

"Sure," Ianto turned back around, trousers sagging around his hips and reached out to grab the guy's cock. The flesh under his hands was warm, with that velvety, vulnerable feel that always gave Ianto a flash of _intimacy_ , no matter how crass the job. He felt the john's pulse pick up against his fingertips as his cock swelled quickly and the way the man licked his lips made Ianto wonder for a flash what it would be like to have that mouth on his cock. He pushed the thought away, scowling. It wasn't like him to feel anything but boredom when he was hustling.

Why the hell this man was picking up rent boys, Ianto couldn't figure. He was clean and handsome and had a cock like a porn star. He didn't seem drunk. Ianto glanced down again at the prick the john was rolling a condom on. Even his cock was handsome, long, sleek, and thick with a broad, rosy head. He'd be feeling this shag tomorrow that was for sure. Ianto curled his fingers to his palm, remembering the lively warmth on his skin.

"Good to know you like what you see," the john chuckled, stroking his cock with a jaunty grin on his face. Ianto rolled his eyes and turned around shoving his pants down.

"I've seen better."

"Yeah?" the john stepped closer his hands settling warm on Ianto's skin. A slow stroke over his arse made Ianto sigh, cautiously pleased at the consideration. It didn't look like the john was going to just ram home like a drunk parking a car. "Where? ' Cause I wouldn't mind a bit of competition."

"Huh?" Ianto blinked and braced his hands on the wall, suppressing a shiver as warm fingers played across his arse, one ghosting lightly down to nudge the back of his balls. "Pants," he muttered. "In my pants."

"See," the touch firmed, thumbs parting his cheeks, the john sounded annoyingly smug. "Said I've got good taste."

Ianto just hung his head and canted his hips out, silently demanding the man get on with it. It was late, he was tired, and done with being witty now that he'd gotten the money. The john grunted, squeezing Ianto's arse. He felt the head of his cock then, sliding between his cheeks, nudging against his hole. Ianto sighed and breathed out, bearing down to take it.

" _Ahhh_ , that's a nice sight to see," the john said, "open wide pretty boy."

"Not a boy," Ianto hissed through his teeth and closed his eyes, flinching once as the fat head stretched him then popped inside. He'd already had a couple of tricks, before the rain, and was a little sore. The john paused, rubbing his hands over Ianto's arse.

"Ready for more?" he said after a moment and despite the cock in Ianto's arse, he didn't sound impatient. The consideration, again, was disconcerting.

"Yeah," Ianto managed huskily. "Go on."

Warm thighs pushed against Ianto's as the john pressed in, solid and thick, while Ianto's palms sweated against the dirty concrete wall and he stared blankly at the battered toilet at his feet. The way the john stop-started his cock in Ianto's arse, fucking in with little pauses and shifts made Ianto squirm restlessly. He wanted it over ... no, he wanted it _in._ Deeper. His back arched despite himself, breath quickening.

"That's right," the john muttered, leaning close over Ianto's back, breath hot on his neck. "For seventy percent over the going rate, I'd better get the full experience. I want you to _want_ my cock."

Ianto's breath hitched with strangled denial but pleasure uncoiled tentatively through him, his cock getting heavy as it dangled ignored under his belly. The john pulled back, till just the head of his cock was in, then pushed slow, so slow, back in. He drew back again, and thrust even slower. Ianto moaned, helplessly. 

"That's it," The john murmured, rewarded him with a faster thrust. Then back to achingly slow, making Ianto feel every inch, every throb and every needy shiver of his own lust. The john folded himself over Ianto's back again, one hand sliding under Ianto's belly to cup his cock.

"No," Ianto knocked his hand away, anger thickening his voice. "That's not for sale."

"Shh, shh," the john gave a little buck, cock jumping inside Ianto. "Okay. You just take this then, it's what you want anyway, yeah?"

He picked up the pace, hips slapping against Ianto's arse, cock pistoning steadily. After the slow tease, the drive felt so fucking good Ianto couldn't hold back the buck of his hips against the rhythm. Hands or not, wanting it or not, his cock stiffened and Ianto cursed under his breath, bewildered by the rush he was getting from being fucked. 

He liked men just fine, but this wasn't a porn movie and he didn't get off on being a whore. But the big hands on his hips, the harsh breathing from the john, the warming slap of his skin on Ianto's ... and the big cock fucking him silly had Ianto shaking and panting, greedy for more than the quid in his pocket.

Ianto writhed, trying to escape his own pleasure but the john just hung on, pulling Ianto's hips up, forcing him to open up and take it. He was getting it hard now, the john grunting with effort, Ianto's balls pulling up tight, thighs flexing, pushing back for more.

"Tell me you want it," the john demanded gruffly, fingers flexing on Ianto's skin. "Tell me you want my cock."

"Fuck me," Ianto gasped, heat rushing to his face. He did dirty talk when his johns wanted it but this time, every raw word was true. "Fuck me, god, fuck my arse. Harder, _oh_ , fuck me harder. I want it, I want it, I want it in my arse. I need my arse fucked deep. Do it," he grunted, grinding back. "Fuck, _do it."_

The john groaned, leaning in, "Such a pretty fucking whore," he panted, words driven deep in with the cock in Ianto's arse. "A few pounds and you'll give up your arse for anyone, just bend right over and spread it for any cock on the walk." The john thrust, jolting Ianto forward, shins knocking against the steel toilet, arms buckling as he tried to brace them both as they got rougher. "Tell me how much you like it," the john growled, nails scraping over Ianto's arse, the scratching bright and sharp against the thudding fuck he was getting. "Say it."

Ianto whined, eyes clenched shut, legs shaking. Pre-come trailed from the tip of his cock as it bobbed stiffly between Ianto's legs. "Your cock," he gasped, "your cock feels so good in my arse –"

"Louder," the man snapped and slapped Ianto's arse hard. "I want every fucking whore out there to hear you."

"Oh, god," Ianto cried, reaching down for his aching cock and grinding his arse back, babbling dirty talk and wordless cries. "Fuck my arse, fuck me, fuck me with that big cock. I need a cock in my arse, so bad, oh-oh- _oh, fuck_ me you bastard."

He wanked himself in frantic time with the john's thrust, saying anything, saying _everything –_

_He wanted to come with the john's cock in his arse, he wanted to be pounded into the wall, he was a whore, he was a slut, he was going to **come.**_

"Harder, harder, fuck yeah, make me come," Ianto was shouting, ears ringing, and the john was _yes-yes-yes_ behind him and Ianto was coming, breaking off with a wail, come spurting through his fingers to patter onto the wall and the grimy toilet. His knees buckled and the john was the only thing holding him up, even as the man continued to pound wildly into him.

He doubled over, pressing his face against Ianto's neck, breath hot as he shouted and came. Ianto shook, fingers spread against the cold concrete, eyes clenched shut against the feel of his cock, softening slowly, and the hot race of his pulse. He didn't come for tricks. He didn't.

The john rested on his back for a moment, breathing heavily, then straightened up. Stepping back he stripped the condom off and dropped it into the clogged toilet between Ianto's feet. Ianto stayed bent where he was, sweat sliding down his thighs as he heard the man shrug his coat back on.

"You're a ride I wouldn't mind buying another ticket for," he said. Ianto turned to see him rubbing a hand across his sweaty face, trying to catch Ianto's eyes with a friendly grin.

Ianto straightened up, grabbing his trousers and pulling them up hurriedly, avoiding the man's gaze. "All holes look the same in the dark."

The john chuckled and Ianto's lips thinned. "You haven't seen enough holes."

"Whatever." Ianto inclined his head towards the entrance and the john stepped obligingly back, letting Ianto push by him. He didn't look back as he heard the man pause briefly under the lit overhang then turn back to his bloody expensive car. It roared off, tyres squealing. Ianto buckled his belt and jerked the zipper up on his jacket, shuddering. He wanted a shower and a smoke and a drink.

"Put on a show for the trick, huh? Bloody hell, for half the park too." Rupert was grinning. All the renters were.

"Fuck off!" Ianto yelled suddenly, stumbling away from the loo and the memories and the stink of his life. Clenching his fists, Ianto broke into a run, burning with shame as cold water slid under his collar and through the leaks in his boots. He was a whore and Mr. Movie-Star-American was a trick and Ianto Jones didn't get off on assholes who hired strangers to fuck in a filthy loo.

That wasn't who he was.


End file.
